


West of the One

by Claire



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Traffic jams are never really this interesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-31
Updated: 2010-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The car may have stopped, but Misha's only just started...</p>
            </blockquote>





	West of the One

Jensen groans quietly as he drops his head back against the headrest of the driver's seat, turning off the ignition and letting the car rumble into silence. There's no point in keeping the engine running, they haven't moved in about three hours and they don't know when the road's going to be clear. The patrolman who walked by earlier mentioned something about the road being blocked by fallen debris due to the storm earlier, but Jensen kinda wonders if his comment about how they were making great time earlier had set the vengeful god of roadtrips after them.

"I don't think we're going to make Texas before nightfall," Jensen says. Considering the sun's already dipping low on the horizon and they're at least another six hours out from Jensen's home, it's a pretty simple conclusion.

Misha looks over at him from the passenger seat. "At least there are blankets in the trunk, along with that box of chocolates we bought for your mom. It means we'll be warm and we won't starve."

Since his mom keeps trying to feed Misha up every time they go back home, Jensen's pretty sure she won't mind if the sacrifice of the chocolates becomes necessary. "I'll let them know we won't be there tonight." He fishes his phone out of his pocket, flicking it open and firing off a quick text to both his parents, condensing the situation to _Roads suck. Hours away. See you tomorrow._

Still though, at least it's Misha he's stuck with and not Jared. He loves Jared like a little brother - a gigantic, hyped-up-on-sugar little brother - but the last time he was in a car with the guy for more than two hours Jensen had nearly killed him. Jared feels the urge to fill silence with any noise he can, talking, laughing, singing whichever song is in his head under his breath but just loud enough to be heard. With Misha it's different. With Misha, the silence is easy. There's no awkward dancing around, trying to make small talk about whichever topics Jensen can think of.

The sun drops lower in the sky and lights start to come from the cars surrounding them, combating the hazy darkness that's settling over them. Jensen reaches out to start the car, figuring it's an idea if their own lights are on, but Misha's hand wraps around his wrist just as his fingers touch the startup.

"Misha?"

Misha's looking at him, soft smile on his lips as his fingers run over Jensen's wrist. "Leave them off, just for now."

It's on the tip of Jensen's tongue to ask why, to comment that having lights on in a stationary vehicle is a _good_ thing, but the words are soon swallowed. Swallowed, as Misha moves, twisting around in his own seat as he releases Jensen's wrist, his hand dropping to Jensen's thigh, the touch light and hardly noticeable as fingers dance over his jeans.

"Mish--" A finger across his lips stops the name.

"Shut up, Jensen." Misha grins at him, a careful smirk barely illuminated by the ambient light around them.

Misha's touch is harder now, palming at Jensen's crotch in a way Jensen can't help but respond to, his cock hardening and filling as Misha's hand slides over the denim.

Jensen bites at his lower lip, part of him wanting to put a stop to this, to tell Misha that they're in _public_ , for fuck's sake, and Sera will kill them if they get caught doing this. But there's anther part of him, the part that's arching into Misha's touch and remembering the slow and easy way he'd slid into Misha's body before they'd set off that morning, that's stomping that thought down in favour of replacing it with one about just grabbing Misha and hauling him into Jensen's lap.

The buttons on his jeans snap open and there's a soft tug before Misha's hand pushes inside, past denim and cotton, and wraps around Jensen's cock, freeing it from the fabricated confines. The motion of Misha's fingers is slow and steady, the stuttered drag of skin catching on skin until Misha's thumb brushes over Jensen's cockhead, slicking precome over hard flesh to ease the way.

"Jesus, Mish--" Jensen closes his eyes, resting against the headrest and trying not to thrust into Misha's grip. It's loose and it's easy, Misha's fingers dipping to run over his balls on each glide down. It's loose and it's easy, but Jensen wants more.

"Misha--" The name drops from his lips, snapping off in a gasp as he feels Misha shift and his cock is enveloped in hot and wet.

Eyes open, Jensen runs a hand through Misha's hair, fingers tangling in dark strands as Misha's lips close around his cockhead.

" _Fuck--_ " Because there's nothing else to say as Misha swallows him down, deliberate and careful. Swallows him down until his nose is against Jensen's skin, gagging softly before pulling back, Jensen shivering as the cold air hits his spit-slick cock.

"Misha--" Jensen's fingers tighten against Misha's hair, and Jensen's not sure if he's begging or whining, but so long as it gets Misha's lips back around the base of his dick, he doesn't care.

Misha looks up at him, grinning as he licks a stripe up Jensen's cock, grinning as his hand moves to cup Jensen's balls. "Yes?" he says, tone light but voice already starting to sound wrecked.

And Jensen's cock twitches as he thinks _I did that_. "Suck me--" It's half way between an order and a plea, half way between _yes_ and _want_ and _Jesus, fuck your **mouth--**_.

Misha pauses and, for a moment, Jensen thinks he's going to back away, leave Jensen hanging just to see him squirm. But the thought's barely formed before Misha's moving, before there are lips and teeth and tongue, all working Jensen's cock. It's wet and it's sloppy and he can feel saliva running over his balls as Misha's rolls them in his fingers. It's wet and it's sloppy and it's fucking _glorious_.

"Misha--" His grip on Misha's head tightens even further, because he can feel it. Can feel it, pooling low in his belly as his balls tighten.

Misha looks up, meeting Jensen's gaze as he moves down, throat opening and lips circling Jensen's cock, nose almost buried in coarse hairs. He meets Jensen's gaze as he smiles around the cock in his mouth and starts to hum, tongue flicking against Jensen's dick and fingers lightly squeezing Jensen's balls.

And that's it, game over. Jensen arches as he comes, and Misha gags, but he doesn't pull back, swallowing as Jensen empties himself down Misha's throat.

His cock is still twitching when Misha finally moves, still twitching as it slips from Misha's lips, wet and slick and soft. There's a dribble of come on the corner of Misha's mouth and Jensen's cock gives a final, weak pulse as Misha's tongue darts out to lap it up.

"C'mere," Jensen says, and his voice sounds low and slurred and fucking _broken_ , even to him.

Misha moves, straddling him awkwardly, but still able to do it in a way that makes Jensen _really fucking grateful_ he bought a car big enough to do this sort of shit in.

Misha's lips are on his as Jensen's hand slips into Misha's jeans, and Jensen can taste himself as he pulls Misha's cock out, jerking him fast and hard as Misha fucking _writhes_ on his lap.

"C'mon, Mish, give it up--" Jensen murmurs, low and dirty in Misha's ear. And Misha does. He stiffens and gasps and fucking _keens_ as his dick pulses in Jensen's grip, come splattering over Jensen. Jensen's shirt is fucked, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care because Misha's against him, loose and pliant as his lips brush over Jensen's ear, breath warm as he murmurs that they really should get stuck in traffic more often.

And all Jensen can do is huff out a laugh and agree.


End file.
